The End

This is it. One year ago today I started this blog. It's been (mostly) a lot of fun and I'm glad I did it. But all good things must come to an end and especially before said good things become not-so-good. Now I understand why Bea Arthur left all of her TV shows at the height of their fame. But I digress.

Anyhow, I thought that for my last blog post I would try to encapsulate what this blog has been about. And then I thought, Why do that when someone else can do it for me? Actually, my mom gave me the idea. Thanks, Mom!

 

Thanks to all my readers. I appreciate that you deigned my writing to be something worth reading.

The End

Love Is

Don't read this if a) you're my sister Little Jo b) you're not into professions of love for one's husband or b) you don't feel like reading something mushy.

Love is leaving the last bit of cream for my coffee and taking regular milk for yourself.

Love is telling me the truth even when I don't want to hear it.

Love is bathing Jr every night.

Love is being the first one up out of bed in the morning to get Jr.

Love is 3 surprises for our anniversary.

Love is correcting translations at work when you have a busy day.

Love is recognizing when you've put your foot in your mouth and apologizing for it.

Love is patience.

Love is comfort and encouragement.

Love is giving a back rub when you don't really feel like it.

Love is blowing up the kiddie pool and not being upset when we didn't use it.

Love is offering to pick up dinner when you hear the desperation in my voice.

Love is thanking me every week (without fail) for doing the laundry.

I love you Ooogly-Woogly Bear!

To Be Rescued

Last night hubby and I watched The Expendables. First, you have to understand that when hubby and I decide to watch a movie, one of us picks three movies from our collection and the other chooses one out of the three. If I don't like the three movies he picked, or vice versa, I have to choose three new movies. So you can guess that last night was hubby's turn to pick four movies (because sometimes we try to give our mate more options if we know they probably won't like most of our choices). My choices were: Star Trek (bleh), Inception (boring and sad), Sherlock Holmes (good but I've seen it many times) or The Expendables (not a huge fan but I didn't mind).

If you're not familiar, The Expendables was written and directed by Sylvester Stallone, just like Rocky. Except now Sly is 60 years old and looks like a huge candle that has melted into a bumpy, almost unrecognizable mess. The plot is fairly simple and the script often bordering on cheesy. But if you're looking for a good blow-em-up, cut-em-up, see-the-blood-gush movie, this is for you.

But I was struck by how romantic Sly must be, for lack of a better word. One character returns to his girlfriend after a month's absence killing bad guys overseas. She has found another boyfriend, but one that beats her. When he sees the bruises on her face he immediately finds her boyfriend and kicks the crap out of him. "I know I'm not perfect," he tells the girl afterward, "but you should have waited. I was worth it." 

And then Sly returns to a tiny island in the Gulf on a suicide mission to save a woman he's met only once before. He crashes into the room where she's being tortured, kills the two guards in a rather gruesome fashion and gathers the woman in his arms. "No one's going to hurt you anymore, I'm here."

It reminded me of when I used to play with Barbies. There was always an "evil" Ken (which was actually a Jordan doll from New Kids on the Block), who would kidnap Barbie. It was always winter or very cold in the cave where he kept her. "Good" Ken (actually Joey from New Kids on the Block) would come and save Barbie, wrapping her in a warm blanket and carrying her to safety in her arms.

Presumably, since Sly wrote and directed this movie, he likes the idea of a man saving a woman and that his audience, mostly men, like this idea as well. Where did this innate desire or compunction to rescue/protect come from? And why do women want it too?

From Sex and the City:

Charlotte: It's because women really just want to be rescued.
Carrie: (voiceover) There it was. The sentence independent single women in their thirties are never supposed to think, let alone say out loud.
Charlotte: I'm sorry but it's true. I've been dating since I was fifteen. I'm exhausted. Where is he?
Miranda: Who? The white knight?
Samantha: That only happens in fairy tales.

I remember when hubby and I were dating. We went to a restaurant with a bunch of people that were more my friends than his, but still not good friends of mine. I wasn't 100% comfortable and he knew that. So when we walked into the restaurant, he had his arm around my waist. Then he took my coat and pulled out my chair for me. When we left, he likewise helped me with my coat and took my waist. It was like he was shielding me and letting everyone at the table know I was his and under his protection. At least that's how it felt to me.

I am not ashamed to admit that I like hubby taking care of me. I take comfort in knowing he is my defender and my champion. I like the idea of being "rescued". 

On the other hand, I don't want to be treated like a child. I don't agree that the man is the head of the household. We're partners and we both have equal say. I don't want or need hubby never to cry or show emotion or feel that he has to "be strong" all the time. After all, sometimes men need (and want) to be rescued too.

But if hubby is the head, well....

"The man is the head of the house, but the woman is the neck; and the neck can turn the head any way she wants." ~ Maria in My Big Fat Greek Wedding

Play Date and Progress

Just had Little Monster and her mom over for a play date. It was the perfect excuse to clean. Unfortunately only the upstairs got cleaned but something clean is better than nothing clean. The girls spilled Cheerios on the living room floor and Jr threw some food on the dining room floor so it's almost as messy as before I cleaned but what can do you.

I admit it was nice not having to leave the house. Little Monster lives on the other side of the island so it takes a minimum of 30 minutes to get to her house, and that with no traffic. 99% of the time I really don't mind going over. It means not having to clean, not having to cook and I can leave whenever I want. But since Little Monster's parents' car is, shall we say, on its last leg, they don't like driving it long distances, which I can appreciate. So 99% of the time, we go to their house. Today was an exception and it was really nice having company. On the plus side, when they left I put Jr down straightaway for her nap, rather than have her fall asleep in the car and then not want to take a proper nap at home.

Regardless of the fact that it would be nice if we lived closer to each other, I would much rather make the trek to her house than have to wait over an hour for hubby to get home from work because he's trying to get through rush hour traffic through the island. So here we stay.

I'm also happy to report that our exterior stairs and walkway are being redone as I type. It was a last-minute call yesterday evening to ask if it was all right if they started today instead of the end of the week. By all means, the sooner the better! Jr is afraid of the workmen and they're making a lot of noise while Jr naps but it's worth it. It'll be a relief not to have to tell people to avoid the middle steps when they come over and for the walkway to look like an actual walkway, not a lawn with bits of stone showing.

Progress!

Catholic Church Conundrum

Yesterday hubby and I were on our way to church when I saw a sign to sign up for Scouts. I thought to myself, Why would anyone sign up for Scouts when they're not allowing gay men to be Scout leaders? Then I thought, Well that's a bit hypocritical to say when we're on our way to a Catholic church!

My brother once said the same thing to me not long ago. How can I be a part of an organization that doesn't allow women the same rights and privileges as men? And I ask myself, how can I be part of an organization that doesn't give homosexuals the same rights as heterosexuals?

At the time I said that there is no perfect religion and that no matter where I go, there will be something I disagree with. I still adhere to this but somewhat lacking in conviction. I believed that I could still be Catholic and be pro-gay rights. I would show people that not all Catholics were the same. I would change things from the inside. But it's rather a silly notion, isn't it? What can I really change when all the decisions are being made by an old man in Rome? What can I actually change when the old man in Rome will be replaced by another old man, chosen by a boys club?

I don't stay with the Catholic Church because it's what I know. I don't stay with the Catholic Church because it makes my life easier in some respects. I stay because despite the many things I disagree with, there are many things I love. Things I would miss if I left. Things I yearn for when I attend worship services elsewhere.

And then there are Catholics I know whom I admire and respect. They, like me, are "liberal". They, like me, have studied theology. They are here. They stay. Surely there are intelligent, reasonable people within every religious organization, no matter their beliefs, so I don't know if that's really a valid point...

I suppose one of the other reasons I'm feeling this way is attempting to make friends with people at church. All summer hubby and I have been sitting in the back of the church with the other young families and making a point to say hello, introduce ourselves and then talk to them every week. Yesterday no one said hello to us and frankly, I was too tired and suffering from PMS to make the effort. It made me grumpy. Resentful. 

Maybe I'm naive in thinking that Protestant churches are big happy families where each and every member is involved, but I do know that whichever church I've visited -- Pentecostal, United, Evangelical -- more than one person has approached me to say hi and welcome. It would be nice to be a part of a group of people that care about welcoming new people as much as I do, instead of having cliques of the same people who always do everything and therefore end up sticking together.

I don't know. I just don't know.

Ya-Ya Sisterhood

Last night I asked hubby to watch The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Suffice to say he wasn't too pleased about the prospect but he did anyway. 

[ I just don't understand him sometimes! He loves Twilight and the Story of Us but then he acts like I'm crazy for suggesting One True Thing! How does one chick flick differ from another I ask you?! But I digress.]

In the end he said it wasn't too bad. There was one scene, however, that he laughed so hard and so long for that we missed the next scene. Sidda, the main character, is having a fight with her fiance Connor, although it's mostly a fight she's made up in her head based on things Connor said taken out of context. She's ranting and raving over the telephone when suddenly Connor stops talking and trying to make her see reason because he's at a loss for words and frankly, bewildered. Sidda bursts out: "Do NOT start that patronizing "You're-crazy-now-so-I-won't-make-any-sudden-moves-till-you're-finished" thing!"

 You can watch the video here. It's taken off of someone's TV so not very good quality (video or sound), but you get the idea.

Well. Hubby thought that was the most hilarious line he'd ever heard. Because that's exactly what he does when I'm on a crazy rant. It infuriates me. A) because he's patronizing me like I'm a little kid having a temper tantrum (and if I am?!?) and B) because he's not responding to what I'm saying (SAY something!!!). I know it's self-preservation kicking in and he knows that the chance of him saying something to piss me off even further is pretty good. And I know in these instances I'm looking for a fight.

So you can see why he thought that part was particularly funny -- what with having a part of his life played out on the big screen.

Oh well. At least he enjoyed some of the movie and I got to watch what I wanted.

Ahh married life.

Farewell, Play Group

This morning was our last play group in the park outing. It makes me sad that it's over. It means summer is coming to an end and it means we won't be seeing Peter Rabbit and his mom anymore for play dates since she's going back to work.

I've found something for us to do starting in September with a re-invented Belles Mamans. They are now offering classes all over the place in other people's place of business, which makes a lot of sense. Don't have to pay rent and you can better cater to your clients who live all over the island of Montreal -- and off it, like myself. Jr and I are taking a course called Sensory Exploration. I imagine that to mean playing with toys, instruments, singing and whatever else delights the senses of a toddler. I don't really care what we do. It gets us out of the house and in contact with other moms and toddlers.

This morning I spoke with two moms in the play group I had never sat with before because their kids are babies -- they make Jr look like a kid, not a baby. I think one is turning 1 next month and the other is maybe 6 months old. I was listening to their labor and delivery stories and I realized the grass always looks greener on the other side until you actually walk over to the other side and take a good look. One mom pushed for 3 hours and she vomited almost the entire time. Push. Vomit. Push. Vomit. The other mom had three miscarriages before she was finally able to conceive her daughter and then was put on bed rest at 20 weeks because the placenta was so low. She was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance at one point because her bleeding was so heavy.

And yet somehow, by some miracle, 10 moms and their kids got together for a play date this morning. We all have our stories and we all have our horror stories, whether from pregnancy or delivery or the first 6 months or the first year, or from now. No matter what the story is, we need to stick together and help each other. Despite your partner knowing everything you went through, sometimes you need another mom to understand. 

So let's be nicer to each other, okay mommies? No more treating motherhood like a competitive sport! No more judgment! And older moms (or moms with older kids or kids that are now grown, I should say), this goes for you too! Your memory can play tricks on you. You weren't Super Mom. You didn't do everything perfectly. You made mistakes. You were at a loss sometimes. You hated getting unsolicited advice. Give us new moms, us moms at the beginning of the race, a break. We could use your sympathy and your compassion.

Okay, I'm done now.

Socks and Underwear

Today I bought some new underwear. I think it was the highlight of my day, even though it's only 11am. The thing about underwear is that you can wear them until they're pretty much falling apart. You can do this because no one sees your underwear except for you and your mate. And if your mate is anything like mine, you could be wearing granny panties or a g-string and he wouldn't notice either way.

I used to go the La Senza sale at the warehouse with my sister, where underwear went for $1 EACH. We would stock up for the year and then go through them the following year, throwing out any old or stained pairs. Unfortunately, La Senza seems to have realized their sales were too good and stopped having them.

So it became difficult to decide when to buy new underwear. The last time I bought new underwear was after Jr was born because my teeny tiny thongs just wouldn't work with my post-pregnancy body. Those underwear have started to look a little gungy so I decide to "splurge" and buy new ones. I say "splurge" because a part of me feels like buying underwear is like buying pajamas. Really you can wear an old t-shirt to bed, you don't need silky two pieces or shirts with cute cupcakes on them. It's not a necessary purchase.

Wow. I can't believe I just spent three paragraphs discussing underwear. This is what you get when you write a blog post when you don't really feel like writing one. I feel like Carrie Bradshaw a la Sex and the City:

"Last night, I actually started writing about my sock drawer. Men as socks. "Socks and the City."

This blog post "socks".

Feel the Tension

I can't believe we're already August 14th. I guess I'm a little more shocked at the date than I normally would be since we've decided to list our house in September. I know it isn't written in stone but nevertheless I feel pretty overwhelmed. But even if I had until next year, I would still let things go until the last minute. I just kept thinking, we have lots of time, no need to rush. Well, it's time to get started.

I don't consider myself a slob but having a clean house with a toddler and having a clean house for showing to potential buyers is completely different. So on top of painting and filling holes in the walls and ceilings (don't ask) and removing concrete pieces from the back yard (really don't ask), I also need to purge every room in the house. The mud room (what we call our un-insolated room, which looked as though it was going to be a garage but they didn't have the space) is the worst. With all the rnos we've been doing it's not only filled with sawdust but full of paint cans and tools, not to mention all of our regular mud room stuff like the cushions for outside, the hedge trimmers, snow shovels, etc.

But I think the biggest pain in the butt is selling our piano. It makes me sad but after thinking about it for a few days, I realized it was the best thing to do right now. I don't play anymore except when Jr wants to tinkle on the keys. We'll get another piano but probably an upright or something similar. I'm hoping that the time will come around again when I can play and I know Jr and her future sibling(s) will take lessons. Anyhow, that means finding a buyer and finding someone who will pay at least half if not more of what we paid. Ugh. We're waiting to hear back from our tuner.

And then there's our pear trees in the back yard, which appear to be dying. One of them is worse than the other -- some branches are completely bare while others have dead leaves. I've called the city and they're going to send someone to look at them and hopefully give me some good news, like it's just because it was such a hot, dry summer. I really don't want to hear a) they're dying or b) trim off all the dead stuff. It will be a major turnoff for buyers if they see two dead trees out back or if they see two butchered trees out back.

Meanwhile Jr seems to have caught a cold or something from her cousin Little Mister. At least I think that's where it came from since he had a snotty nose on Sunday. I'm glad Jr's getting her germs from somewhere (gotta build up that immunity somehow!) but it's still not fun when she's under the weather, especially since she's so attached to her suess, which requires breathing through her nose and the same for her frog, which she loves to sniff like a coke addict. I'm not looking forward to this afternoon when I have a meeting at my dad's office with a fellow broker of his. Dad said he would watch Jr while we had our powwow but watching extra-cranky-Jr is no mean feat.

Can you feel the tension??

Oh, Dad.

I just heard a great message on my voice mail.

Hubby recorded the welcome message for our voice mail and he did it in both languages, French and English. This way people know we're bilingual and can leave a message in whichever language they wish. My dad, even though his French is more of a "I-can-get-by" kind of French, will always leave a little bit of his message in French. This time, though, he went all out:

Bonjooor!!!! C'est ton père, uhhh... grandpère....belle-père..no wait..beau-père!!

He then proceeds to leave the most detailed description of when he called and how to reach him (even though I know his cell number by heart):

Melissa, this message is for you. If you could please call me back. It's 1:20pm on...uh...Thursday. 7**-7***!!!

By this time I know he's subconsciously slipped into his real estate agent mode because he sounds almost like a television commercial.

By the time the message finished I was walking around restlessly waiting for him to finish so I could hang up and call him back. It reminded me of when we were younger and he would ask us kids to get something and then give us the most in-depth directions ever.

Go into the house. Go into my office. Go into the drawer. The middle drawer, not the top one and not the bottom one. The middle drawer. Open it. When you open it, look on the LEFT. Don't look on the right because it's just paper clips and that's not what you want. Look on the left. The paper I need is underneath the stapler. Move the stapler. It should be right there. So. Go into the house... repeat.

I was making fun of my sister the other day for doing it to my niece but she said she kind of understands why our dad did it: because kids have an attention span that lasts about as long as a bubble. You need to be clear and you need to be specific. 

On a happy note, I went last night for a full body massage and this time around, I really enjoyed myself. I was more comfortable since I had been to this massage therapist before and since my dad sent her my blog post about my first visit! Thankfully she wasn't offended or anything but actually thanked me for reminding her what it's like to be the client. I was a lot less consumed with what she must be thinking about my body. I also talked to her, which I didn't do the first time because I didn't think I'd want that. I don't like talking while getting my hair done or when getting manicures so I figured it would be the same. But I actually enjoyed our conversation. So hurray for me!

Toys, Oh Toys

I always wondered how some moms could go crazy buying stuff for their kids. If you're in such a spending mood why not shower some love on yourself too? Why does it have to be just for them? Maybe this speaks to my more selfish side?

But today I went to Toys R Us and had an experience similar to what I imagine those moms have regularly. I swear I went there just to see if they had plastic dishes for Jr. I looked at Walmart with no success so I decided to see what Toys R Us had to offer. I promised myself I wouldn't spend a ridiculous amount on plastic dishes.

Then I saw a little pop up toy that Jr's friend Little Monster has at her house. Jr loves this toy. She can't get enough of pushing the animals back inside and getting someone to pop them up for her. I had found something similar at Walmart but for a ridiculous $20. I found one at TRU for $10. I couldn't help myself.

Then I saw they were having a sale on Sesame Street toys. Jr loves Sesame Street. We already bought Hooper's Store attached to an apartment building and Oscar's dump truck with Oscar, Cookie Monster and Elmo figurines at a sale at Zeller's. This time they had the Count driving a school bus with another Elmo figurine. I think out of all my purchases, this was the most unnecessary (if you can call any of the other purchases necessary!)

Finally, though, I found a 22 plastic dish set for a mere $10. I mostly bought them so she could play with them outside with water, something she does at my parents'. I'm always amazed how long it can keep her attention -- although you have to keep the water coming.

Here's the kicker: I sincerely enjoyed shopping for and buying these items. I thought about how happy they would make her (even if for only a short while). I loved walking up and down the aisles of TRU looking at all of the toys and mentally picking out what I thought she would like.

Why, though? Did I not get enough toys as a child? Am I overcompensating with Jr? Do I falsely equate giving her toys with giving her my love?

I don't think it's any of those things.

I think it's simply the fact that I love seeing Jr's face light up. I love making her happy and squeal with delight. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. So long as I remind myself that it is simply impossible for Jr to be happy 24/7 and that no amount of toys or food can change that. That sometimes, it's good for her to be bored, or sad, or upset, or disappointed or discouraged.

Comparison Is the Thief of Joy

I haven't written in a couple of days, I know. Wednesday we visited Little Monster and left the house by 10am. Yesterday we had play group (finally!) and we left at a quarter to 9. Simply no time to blog! True, I do have time at night once Jr is in bed but I find the morning to be the best writing time.

I've been thinking about jealousy lately. I just don't understand it. The Bible actually has quite a lot to say about jealousy and envy.

For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice. - James 3:16

A tranquil heart gives life to the flesh, but envy makes the bones rot.- Proverbs 14:30

 Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm, for love is strong as death, jealousy is fierce as the grave. - Song of Solomon 8:6

 Bottom line, jealousy is not good. But we all know that. It's an unpleasant feeling at best and at worst it can tear you up inside -- or as the author of Proverbs put it, make your bones rot.

My feeling is that jealousy is not a sin in and of itself. How can it be a sin when it can catch you completely off guard? It appears almost out of nowhere and slithers into your mind while its tentacles wrap themselves around your heart, squeezing.

No, feeling envious is not a sin. But, like anger, when you act out of jealousy, when you live your life according to these envious thoughts, that's when you're in trouble. Or when you revel in someone else's jealous of you. Time to be concerned.

I think the most troubling part is feeling jealous when you really don't have anything to be jealous about. What I mean is, my life is good. On paper it looks pretty darn close to perfect: married, child, house, two cars, university degree, friends, family... I could go on. So why...?

But I guess it doesn't matter why if it's a natural human response. The question becomes how do you deal with it? I did a little research online and many Christian sites have essentially said, "You're not happy with what God has given you. Be like Jesus." I find this so trite. It's too easy to say and doesn't give good, concrete examples of what being like Jesus would look like in the 21st century.

I did find some good tips elsewhere that while not coming from a Christian website, give clear instructions how to be like Jesus with regards to jealousy:

1. Stop worrying about you all the time: you are not the center of the universe. There are people who are in need of your help, whether physically or emotionally. If you stop putting the focus on yourself all the time, you'll find there is no room for comparison and thus envy. Be a blessing to other people and you will be blessed.
2.  Stop wanting what other people have if you're not willing to go through what they did to get it: I really liked this one. It reminded me of a quote from the movie Friends With Benefits: "Hey, everybody wants a short cut in life. My guide book is very simple. You wanna lose weight? Stop eating, fatty! You wanna make money? Work your ass off, lazy! You wanna be happy? Find someone you like and never let him go."
3.  Start focusing on all that's positive in your life: the actual way to do this is by stopping a jealous thought in its tracks and rewiring your thought process. I learned to do this when I would start worrying. It's so easy to start worrying about one little thing and eventually turning it into a monstrous, overwhelming fear. Same goes for jealousy. You start off by thinking, Wow, their house is so nice, and before you know it you're picking out every possible thing that's wrong with your house to the point that you now might as well live in a cardboard box. Instead, once you get that first thought in your head, either think about something else or put a positive spin on it.

So it's a nice little list of what to do and what not to do. Actually putting it into practice is another matter entirely. Good luck!

God Loves Me Just the Same

We are not the roles we play, and women are being done a great social disservice by our relentless perpetuation of the current mothering narrative.

We are all individuals with such complex sets of traits, talents, skills, and emotions that we cannot possibly be summed up in words, let alone labels.

And yet we use labels everyday to categorize ourselves and each other (he’s a doctor, she’s a writer, Joe’s a plumber) .

“And what do you do Sarah?”
“Oh, I’m a stay-at-home Mom.”

And there it is, an entire person summed up in a sentence.

- Sean Sutton from We Are Individuals -- And We Happen to Parent

When hubby needed to travel all over Ontario for his job right after we got married, we decided to go together. We had both just graduated from university, I didn't have a job lined up and we were living rent-free in my in-law's apartment building (thank you FIL and MIL!). So we packed two massive suitcases and lived in various hotel rooms for the next 6 months or so.

What did I do? I was taking correspondence courses with St. Francis Xavier University in Nova Scotia to earn a Diploma in Lay Ministry. Unfortunately (or fortunately?), after taking a full course load at McGill for the past 3 years, the workload for this particular diploma did not fill up much of my days. So I explored the city or town wherever we were. I had earned my license a few weeks after we got married and really learned how to drive (and get lost) in downtown Toronto. I (halfheartedly) went to the gym in the hotel. But mostly I watched DVDs in the hotel room.

I wasn't very happy. Everyday I asked myself whether I shouldn't just return to Montreal and get a job and see hubby on the weekends. What was I doing?? Who was I if I wasn't going to school or working? I realized that my identity (the identity I gave myself) was strictly tied to whatever I was doing. And if I didn't have anything in particular to do...if I was doing nothing... well then logically, I was nothing.

Dark, dark times.

But then (I don't even remember how or why) I found a women's faith sharing group at the University of Toronto. Once a week I would drive downtown to meet with a group of women students and teachers of the university, and discuss Scripture and pray and we would pour out our hearts to each other. I don't think there was one time when one of us wouldn't cry.

I think this is when my relationship with God started to seriously flourish. I started doing devotions every day. I would write in my journal as usual but instead of lamenting my situation, I would write down my prayers and study Bible passages. These women -- the grace of God, really -- saved me.

I am a child of God and as such, God loves me. Not because I have a Masters degree or because I own a home or even because I go to church and give to charities. He loves me simply for me, in this moment, doing nothing. If I never did another thing in my life, I would still be loved. God doesn't see me as Melissa the *insert job here*. He sees my soul, the essence of my being, the good that he created and that is what he loves.

It's this truth that I struggle to remember as a mom. Often times I do feel defined by being a SAHM. It sometimes does feel that when I tell people I stay at home with Jr there's a sort of let-down. Like, "That's it?" or an awkward "Oh... that's nice." There's that nagging feeling like I should be "doing it all": going to work, being a mother, being a wife, being superwoman. And not just doing them but excelling at them. I have to be CEO, the best cook, the best baker, have the cleanest house, have sex with my husband everyday... The crazy thing is, no one has ever said these things to me directly. It's mostly just me expecting too much out of me.

I am also aware that I have changed since becoming a mom. Things that were important are no longer important, things that I used to enjoy are no longer as easy to do before. Some things don't bother me much, like not writing in my journal as often. Other things make me sad, like not playing the piano anymore. And some I am happy to let go, like keeping my house as clean as the inside of a Purell bottle. I am caught up in being a mother.

Yet I think the fact that I'm having this conversation with myself is proof enough that motherhood hasn't absolutely consumed me. I recognize that these early years are so important for Jr and I want to be sure to give her a solid, loving foundation to grow on. For now, "Mom" is the first hat I put on in the morning and that's okay. Regardless, God loves me just the same.

 

A Rambling Post

It was pointed out to me that in my last blog entry I wrote that my uncle always "makes out here" rather than always makes IT out here to visit. Missy's Musings apologizes for the error. I mean, I'm sure it's possible my uncle makes out with my aunt every time he comes out here but I don't know that for a fact. And it's not what I meant.

Hubby and I passed by the house we're interested in and from the outside, things look good. The driveway needs to be paved and we need to put up a fence in the backyard, but the neighborhood is very nice and the house is within walking distance from the village/main street. Our agent is out camping somewhere so we're waiting until his return to schedule a visit. My only concern (besides the ugly bathroom cupboards) is that there are no photos of the basement. You always gotta ask yourself: why are there no photos of said room? Is it hideous? Are the carpets shag? Or is it just because that's where they're storing all their stuff so the agent could take photos? I guess we'll wait and see. I'm trying not to get too excited but I am looking forward to visiting the house.

I don't know what I did to my neck but by the time I got home yesterday from my parents' house I had a terrible headache and a very sore neck. And then for some reason Jr didn't want to go to sleep. It started out with her babbling in her crib but soon became crying that got louder and louder. We were surprised because normally after swimming in my parents' pool she's pretty tuckered out. Anyhow, by the time she fell asleep it was 9pm. She woke up again in the night (I can't remember what time) and then once and for all at 6am. She must have slept terribly because she was in a bad mood, screaming bloody murder the entire time hubby changed her diaper and she refused to eat her breakfast. She seems to be okay now so I pray it stays this way for the rest of the day.

I can't believe it's going to be August this week. The summer is flying by and we still haven't gone to Granby Zoo. We've been meaning to go since June but there's always been something or somewhere else to go. We're going to make it there...one day.

Lazy Saturday

Ahhhh Saturdays.

I don't know what your Saturdays are like but around here, they are very laid back and kind of lazy. We get up, feed Jr and then hubby watches a movie with her while eating his breakfast in the living room (which Jr eats half of) while I eat my breakfast at the table. I used to read the paper with the app I have on my iPad but now we've subscribed to the print copy again -- and I LOVE it. So, so happy.

Yesterday Jr and I visited with her Teta (Grandma) for lunch and then fun at the splash park. Mostly it was my MIL and Jr walking around the water structures (very, very slowly) because Jr wasn't too keen on actually getting wet. She was more interested in the other kids and what they were doing. As for me, I enjoyed myself sitting on a park bench watching my adorable daughter and taking pictures to capture the moment. When we left to go home, Jr fell asleep almost as soon as I drove away and then slept some more when we got home. Unfortunately, she woke up discombobulated and was very whiny and easily moved to tears -- like big, huge crocodile tears. Ah well, what can you do.

Today we're going to visit with one of my uncles who is in town visiting. Out of all my family members out West, I'm fairly certain he is the one who has been here the most. I think he makes out here at least once a year. Whereas some family members, who shall remain nameless, have yet to set foot on Quebec soil. Tsk, tsk. It's not like we live on the other side of the world, people! Again, what can you do.

We're also going to drive by a house I happened upon yesterday night on realtor.ca. Hubby said I either needed to lower my standards or find another neighborhood to live in. So I was looking in an area not far from where we are now but still considered another city. It's a great house, very much within our price range and still the same distance from hubby's office as he is now. The only thing I don't like are the bathrooms. Why on earth do people choose BLUE cupboards for bathrooms? Is it because bathrooms are associated with water and therefore feel like it should be water themed and thus blue? It's hideous, really. And it's not like I can paint over it. It's not even wood painted blue. It's the actual material and obviously new. They actually renovated it to look like this. But whatever. For everything else we get I'm willing to deal with it until we can afford to change it over. Anyhow, we're going to drive by and see what it looks like and what the neighborhood is like. Wish us luck!

Happy Saturday!

A Solo Visit

I've identified one flaw with wanting your week to go by quickly: the summer will be over that much sooner. I can't believe we'll be heading into August next week. I know that the warm weather doesn't just disappear September 1st but there is this feeling of the beginning of the end. 

That being said, I'm still happy it's Friday!

Yesterday I had a doctor's appointment downtown so hubby came home early from work to watch Jr. The gloriousness of driving my car without looking into my review mirror to see what Jr's doing or why she's fussing! The absolute freedom of listening to whatever music I want, as loud as I want! And even though I sat for an hour in the waiting room at the doctor's office, I felt 21 pounds lighter, sitting by myself without a toddler to worry about, without needing an extra seat for the diaper bag. It was just me and my purse and it was great.

The visit itself was good. Generally my doctor scolds me quite strongly about losing weight and tries to think of ways to motivate me. I was dreading this. Thankfully, this time she politely suggested that I "try to lose some of the weight slowly". Roger that. Then there was the wonderful pap test, which any woman can tell you feels like a mix of getting your teeth drilled at the dentist and having someone accidentally walk in on you when you're on the toilet -- a bit painful and slightly embarrassing. Good news though everyone! I now have "the cervix of a woman who's given birth"! It's "not quite as tight" according to my doctor. Hubby hasn't mentioned anything so I guess that's all right.

I guess the only complaint I have is when we were discussing Jr and I was telling my doctor how difficult Jr was in the first year and how she is still a spirited toddler. She kind of laughed at me and basically implied that it was all in my head and that all babies/toddlers are a handful. I could have punched her. It wasn't like I was complaining or going on and on -- she was the one who asked me about it after all! Oh well. Only hubby and I truly know what we went through and what it was like so bollocks to anyone who disagrees.

After my appointment I went to visit my friend AD so that I could miss rush hour traffic. It was fantastic drinking my latte (thanks Dr. Perron!) and having some good ol' girl talk! AD and her mom were disappointed Jr wasn't with me but thankfully they let me stay anyway. I've gotten used to everyone gushing over Jr's arrival at their house and then turning to hubby and I with a much more subdued 'hello'. (But I don't think I'd want anyone to gush over me anyway.) 

By the time I got home Jr was in bed and the kitchen cleaned. Yay hubby!

Wishing you all a great weekend,

Missy

Why Do I Care About Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson?

I'm pretty bummed because the play group in the park was cancelled yet again, this time due to rain. I know some things can't be helped but it sucks just the same. On the bright side I've been busy this week so it's not like I'm dying to get out of the house and it gives me the chance to do work for my dad.

One of my guilty pleasures is celebrity gossip. I'm not obsessed, I don't know what's happening to every single movie star at every moment but I do keep tabs on some of my favorite actors and actresses. I'm always a little surprised at myself when a famous couple splits up and I feel sad. Like when I read that Johnny Depp and Vanessa Paradis were heading for divorce or when Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins announced they were going their separate ways after 20+ years. They seem like "normal" people who happen to have abnormal jobs (I mean really, who gets paid millions of dollars to look good and act like someone else?). Divorce and separation are never pretty and I don't think anyone would wish it on someone else, even if you are taking bets on how long Kim Kardashian's next marriage will last.

Failing relationships are one thing but adultery is another. It's just so sad and wrong. I don't even know these celebrity people but I get so disappointed in them when they cheat. I feel like sitting them down in a chair and asking, "Why?"

So when I learned that Kristen Stewart, star of the Twilight movies, cheated on her boyfriend and co-star, Robert Pattinson, I was terribly disappointed. After all, there's nothing better than watching a movie with two characters falling madly in love with each other while knowing that in real life (if you can call their paparazzi-filled-oodles-of-money-lifestyle real life) they are actually romantically involved.

Unfortunately, it looks as though this is not just a rumor since there are photos of the event and a public statement given by Stewart apologizing for said "momentary indiscretion".

I try to imagine how Pattinson is feeling right now. He is a real human being with real human feelings and I can't imagine it getting any worse than having your relationship woes splashed across the cover of magazines.

But don't worry, I won't go over the deep end about it like some people out there. I've already read about some Pattinson lovers threatening Stewart with bodily harm and going on YouTube chastising her with tears in their eyes. Yikes.

So what's the point of this blog? Nothing. Just wanted to share my feelings about it and marvel that I actually care.

Is Thumb Sucking Really Such A Big Deal?

The other day I was browsing an app on my iPad called Zite. It's my online magazine with only the stuff I'm interested in. You choose which categories you want to read about and this amazing app pulls all the recent articles and blog posts about your desired topics from the internet into one convenient location for you to read. I love it.

Anyhow, I came across a blog post about thumb sucking and whether or not you should allow your child to do it. The blogger herself said she wasn't worried about it and when her 6 year old was ready to kick the habit, he/she (can't remember which) would.

Then I read the comments. Wow.

For the most part people were pretty laissez-faire about the whole thing. Some were quite concerned with their kids' teeth and needing braces and whatnot. And some were downright nasty. They said it was disgusting and ridiculous for anyone over the age 2 to do it and they would nip it in the bud as soon as possible.

I did a little online research to see what the medical professionals had to say. Up until around 5 years old, it's perfectly normal and fine for your kid to suck their thumb. After that it may be a problem because thumb-sucking after age 5 is in response to an emotional problem or other disorder, such as anxiety.

As someone who sucked their thumb for a long time -- and I mean a LONG time -- I think I am fairly qualified to give an opinion on the matter.

I sucked my thumb and had a pillow. They were a HUGE comfort to me. When I was sad, mad, glad, hungry or bored, my thumb and my pillow could soothe me right away. I didn't do it at school but I would while watching TV and of course, to get to sleep. I did it despite the fact that one of my friends in grade 1 said "only babies suck their thumbs" and despite the fact that one of my friends in grade 2 told me to stop sucking my thumb when she was over for a slumber party. I did it despite the fact that my parents tried to get me to stop. I remember them trying to get me to realize how childish and silly it was by buying me a pacifier. I did feel pretty stupid sucking on a suess in grade school but I was so determined to keep sucking my thumb that I did it. 

At one point I wasn't allowed to take my pillow from my room and since a thumb without a pillow is nothing at all, I ended up doing it mostly at night or when I went to my room to read (nothing like reading a good book while sucking your thumb!). 

As for my teeth: no problems, no braces. My mom always said that teeth are really a luck of the draw. Some people have good teeth and some people have teeth that are just prone to problems. I sucked my thumb for ages and didn't need braces while my sister kicked the habit way before I did and needed braces. I was warned of teeth issues when I gave Jr the suess but I stick to what my mom said: if Jr is going to need braces it won't be because of a suess. It's just her genes and the teeth God gave her.

My doctor told me I had an oral fixation.  According to Freud, an adult who is orally fixated will engage in abundance of oral activities such as eating, drinking, or smoking. Thankfully eating is my only vice but sometimes I wonder if sucking my thumb again would curb my desire to eat thereby helping me lose weight!

And if Jr decided to suck her thumb? Well, I would explain to her the repercussions and I would try to limit her to the house. Otherwise, I think it's fairly harmless. I turned out all right... didn't I?

A Nephew and a Niece

I'm sitting here trying to remember what we did this weekend and I'm having trouble!

Let's see.. Saturday my sister had a baby shower to attend and asked hubby and I to watch our nephew, Little Mister. It happened to be his 2nd birthday! Jr and Little Mister had a great time together. We walked to the nearest restaurant, which is a good 30 minutes from our house. Both kids were as good as gold. At the restaurant the waitress thought Little Mister was Jr's little brother and asked us why we didn't have one stroller with two seats instead of having two separate strollers. Jr was her usual self (i.e. fussy) but after giving her a packet of jam and a spoon, she was very happy. Little Mister wanted the same but just because Jr had it, I think. I have to admit I was proud of how prepared we were and how clean we left everything after the meal. When we got home hubby blew up the kiddy pool my in-laws bought for Jr and while Jr was completely uninterested in it, Little Mister enjoyed himself very much.

Sunday we went to church and afterward went to my parents' to celebrate my niece's 9th birthday. We had offered to have her sleep over at our place that night and take her to the zoo the next day. I think Jr laughed and shrieked the entire way home from my parents' house, just because Meggo Eggos would smile at her. Meggo Eggos managed to stay awake until 11pm -- WAY past our bed time! Everyone woke up with Jr the next day at 7am. Jr was THRILLED to see Meggo Eggos still here. After breakfast we went to the zoo. Unfortunately (for me), it was a hot, sticky day. I can't imagine if we had gone during the day instead of in the morning. Then it was a movie and a board game and then lunch. By the time hubby left to drive Meggo Eggos home, I was utterly exhausted. How can that be? There's no way a 9 year old is more tiring than a 1 year old! Right?

Now it's Tuesday (but feels like Monday) and the week starts all over again. We were supposed to have a visit with Little Monster and her mom but they cancelled. I'm actually kind of glad so that I can do the laundry and go grocery shopping (you know you're not a kid anymore when accomplishing these tasks make you happy).

50 Shades of Opinion

You may or may not have noticed awhile back that I was reading 50 Shades of Grey. I knew that it was dubbed "mom porn" and that many, many people criticized it for its poor writing but that was about it. But there was such a hullabaloo about it that I wanted to read it. Thankfully a friend lent it to me and off I went.

And then the unthinkable happened. I didn't finish it. This is something I never do. Actually, there are two books that I can ever remember not finishing: John le Carré's The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, which I found on one of my parents' many bookshelves and The Art of War by Sun Tzu lent to me by my BIL. I tried, I really did, but I couldn't finish them.

50SoG is about a self-conscious woman, Ana, in her 20s who thinks she's plain and unsexy but who grabs the attention of a multi-millionaire, Christian, also in his 20s, who likes S&M but nothing too over the top (no urine or animals please!). He likes to be in control. Ana, our "heroine", finds that she enjoys his dominance and of course, the earth-shattering sex. Once I had read Christian's list of "do's and do not's" for Ana to live by, I was immediately turned off. I put it down and explained to my friend who lent it to me why I wasn't enjoying it. She told me the second book was better so I decided to keep reading.

The second sex scene was worse than the first, in the sense that it was purely fictional -- only 1 in 100 women would be able to take what Ana took and do what Ana did and the same goes for Christian. Sure, I enjoy a good romp in my books but only if it's semi-realistic. This book is suspension of disbelief to the extreme. So I have once again put it down and am reading something else.

There's so much discussion going on about this book! Some ridicule the poor writing while others defend the right to read whatever you enjoy. Some celebrate the fact that women and their sexuality are coming out into the open and are being discussed, no longer taboo. Some suggest far better erotica to read. Some have said their sex lives have taken a turn for the better and have even predicted a baby boom!

Me? If you read it and you like it, great. If you read it and don't like it, great. If it increases the frequency  you "put in the roast", great. If you, like me, can't finish it, great.

Reading is always better than no reading at all.